


That's What She Said

by One_Line_Wonder



Category: Marvel
Genre: Fluff, Injury, M/M, Soft Boys, buckys a grumpy cat, clints a disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28072032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Line_Wonder/pseuds/One_Line_Wonder
Summary: Sleepy boys, tender kisses, and gentle injury care. What more does a person need?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	That's What She Said

One of the only things Clint considers himself an authority on besides arrows, decent pizza restaurants, and the best ways to make Nat laugh, is fighting. He’s been fighting his whole life, killed more aliens than the person with the record holding high score to Space Invaders, and has injured his body in ways most people didn’t know were possible.  


It was because of his veteran status in the ways of fighting that SHIELD often had him supervise the newer agents on their first few missions to make sure that they could actually do their jobs correctly. With these new agents being put under his wing, he regularly gets asked numerous questions about what it’s like being an Avenger, does he like what he does, and “is Captain America really as nice as everyone says?”

Those are all easy to answer. He tells them that being an Avenger is not much different than what they are doing as just an agent, they just don’t have to deal with as much press coverage as the six of them do. He absolutely loves what he does, no matter how many stories Nat has about him complaining and hating on previous missions. The Captain America answer boils down to “he’s a pretty nice guy, unless you take the leftovers he called dibs on from the fridge. Then he may leave his shield upside down just outside your bedroom door so you’ll step on it when you try to go pee in the morning and it hits you in the shin, making you regret the day you ever wanted to eat the last few slices of his claimed pepperoni pizza.”

Clint tries to joke with them as much as he can- they’re nervous enough without having him be stern and all business- though there is always one person in the group who asks the question that everyone else is too afraid to ask: What does he believe is the worst thing that they will encounter?

Now, he’s got more answers to that than there are hours missing out of Tony’s weekly sleep schedule, but he knows that these bright-eyed recruits aren’t looking for the sugarcoated or over-dramatic answers they get from handbooks and higher ups. Yeah, failing the mission, making a bad call, and the pressure to do a good job suck a whole fuck of a lot, but he always tells them the worst thing that they will have to experience on a regular basis is the adrenaline crash after missions, and that it’s worse if they get hurt on the job.

Sometimes your body is slow in letting you know that you probably shouldn’t move for a few days. After the required medical debrief, you can make it all the way home before you have to pop a few painkillers. Other times you haven’t even made it into your ride back to HQ- you have to hope that someone was prepared enough to bring something just in case someone got really hurt, so you don’t have to tough it out until you can get help. The absolute worst, though, is when you get hurt and you hide it because you don’t want your teammates to worry. You’re stuck filling out paperwork with battered knuckles and a slight stab wound until you can take care of it yourself when everyone is gone. 

Okay, so maybe he never gets that specific, and he normally stops at the ‘having to tough it out’ part, but he really does hate when he does that, even if it is for the best. He knows he can handle the pain, and that he can wait for medical attention until everyone else gets taken care of if his life isn’t in danger. Plus, he doesn't need these people gritting their teeth through their own wounds in an attempt to seem less dramatic, knowing that he doesn't react to his own injuries- after all, he's been doing this for way longer.

So he’ll sit there through the after-mission debrief, filling out paperwork with them until each one has been through a wellness check, and either has the okay to go home or has been admitted for observation. Then, once they’re all set, he’ll take a trip down to medical and get taken care of. Maybe. 

Only this time, he has to stay put through a longer debrief and fill out even more paperwork. What was supposed to be a routine sweep job at a recently SHIELD-captured Hydra research lab turned into a cat and mouse take down mission- a few of the former scientists who had evaded capture decided to try and take it back from the small group of agents. 

Though, even with all that bullshit, he was just happy that none of the recruits were hurt too badly, and he didn’t have to add an “Unfit for Missions” report to his stack of papers. His very large stack of papers... It was going to be a long night.

He had been sitting in a conference room since they had arrived back at HQ several hours earlier, and he insisted everyone else leave when they could, claiming he could handle the paperwork himself. It was already into the wee hours of the morning, and he knew from experience that the after-mission crash was horrible, especially when your normal sleeping routine had already been fucked over by the job. He wanted these baby agents home when they inevitably passed out since the chairs in the conference room were not comfortable in any way to fall asleep in, and even less so when you were injured. 

It had crossed Clint’s mind a few times to go and get patched up before finishing the paperwork so he could stop bleeding on himself, but he knew that if he walked away now, he would lose all motivation to get it done. Besides, it wasn’t that bad of a stab wound. He’s definitely had worse, and he wasn’t in any danger of bleeding out, so it was fine. 

He was getting rather frustrated though, so maybe he should take a break? Clint pondered the idea for a moment before deciding against it. If he didn’t figure out if 'affect' or 'effect' was the right word for this sentence, he was going to lose it. 

He was so caught up in his internal grammar debate, he didn’t hear the door to the room open and close, though he certainly didn’t miss the very sleepy looking Bucky that appeared in his peripherals. Clint’s face lit up at the sight of him, the rapid tapping of his pen ceasing as all his attention was put upon the other man. 

His hair was mussy and his eyes squinted in the bright light of the fluorescent bulbs that lined the ceiling, making him look like a kitten someone had woken up from a nap, and fuck Clint was weak. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with him for some well deserved sleep, but no, he had to be an adult and finish his work.

“Hey, perfect timing! Would you say it’s affect or effect for this sentence?” He asked as he tapped his pen at the paper. Bucky didn’t answer, he just squinted at Clint even more, which just added to the pissed-off-kitten look. Clint, however, just kept on going, knowing that if he stopped to appreciate how cute Bucky was, the paperwork would never get done. ”I think I’ll go with affect. The letter E gets used a lot in words, and I’m starting to get sick of its privilege. You really don’t notice it until you gotta do shit like this.” Clint tapped the stack with his pen before putting it back to the paper. He was happy to note that the rapid skritching of the tip against the paper didn’t cover up Bucky’s precious grunt of acknowledgement to his broken ears.

When Clint next looked up to ask another writing question a short time later, Bucky was gone. He glanced around the room for a moment, then to the door with a frown.  
“Shit. Okay, is it IE or EI...Uh I before E except after…..fuck it. Hardly anything follows that rule anyways, why do we even have it?" He continued muttering to himself as he went, hoping that Fury wouldn’t make him redo anything with mistakes. 

Clint was just finishing up the last form when Bucky practically slammed a medkit onto the table. He jolted in surprise, causing his pen to draw a line well across the entire page he was filling out.  
“Aw, man… I don’t wanna fill this out again…” He stared sadly down at the now ruined page, which was promptly pushed out of his field of vision with a huff of laughter.  
“Then don’t. What’s Fury gonna do? Fire you?” Clint’s frown stayed as disinfectant and bandages of all shapes and sizes were placed on the table.  
“Well, no… But he might just make me do all this over again.” He gestured to the pile beside him, the last several hours dragging back through his mind.  
“Maybe he’ll make you do what my old kindergarten teacher did whenever we messed a letter or word up, and you’ll have to write it out over and over until he decides you can do it right.” Even with his smile, there was an underlying bitterness to Bucky’s words, and Clint would bet he had spent several hours of his childhood rewriting shit. The thought of a disgruntled baby Bucky angrily writing on a chalkboard brought a smile back to his face.  
“Honestly, if he made me do that, I think I would quit.” He let out a laugh as Bucky pulled up a chair beside him. “Man, can you imagine the headlines if that happened? Local Superhero Quits After Schoolyard Punishment. I may just do it so I can see that bolded in the paper. Shit would be funny.” Clint really didn’t know if it was actually as funny as he thought it was, or if it was just the weariness tweaking it in his brain. Either way, Bucky let out a laugh as he popped the cap off the disinfectant spray and reached for one of Clint’s hands.

Normally Clint would internally swoon at just how gentle and soft Bucky got anytime he was helping him with his injuries, but-  
“...Is that gonna sting?” He got a simple “No.” in response, and he was fully prepared to believe it...until his face twisted in pain as the spray was applied.  
“You lied to me!” Clint wailed in a way that was only slightly exaggerated. He continued to gripe as his other hand was sprayed, and then actually tried to push Bucky away as the other man attempted to disinfect the stab wound on Clint’s side.  
“You’re seriously bitching at how bad this stings when you were stabbed?” Though slightly exasperated, Bucky’s voice was nothing but fond as he began to clean the wound.  
“I was slightly stabbed! Only the tip went in!” His weak argument was met with another spray of disinfectant and Bucky's small laugh as he smirked around a "That's what she said" before taping a bandage over it. The bastard didn’t even try to hide his amusement as Clint squawked out his protest. 

“You’re mean.” Clint pouted as Bucky patted his knuckles dry, the accusation only making the other man smile.  
“Yeah, but you still love me.” He took a moment to tenderly kiss the pout of Clint’s lips before turning to pack up the medical supplies. Clint was nothing but smiles as he began to gather up all the papers, a soft “Yeah…” being the only word he was able to mutter through his brain fog, now amplified by Bucky’s affection. He neatened the stack before placing it in the proper bin with a deep yawn. Now that he had actually stopped, he felt even more tired than before. He was so looking forward to crawling into bed with Bucky and sleeping away whatever was left of the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 It's been literal years since I've written a fanfic, so hopefully it doesn't read like my RP threads. I may change the title down the line, but for now this is the best I've got. My tumblr is the-one-line-wonder if anyone has any requests!


End file.
